


The sun doesn’t rise in the Underworld

by TwinkleToestheBerserker



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 07:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21222656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinkleToestheBerserker/pseuds/TwinkleToestheBerserker





	The sun doesn’t rise in the Underworld

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daalex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daalex/gifts).

The sun doesn’t rise in the Underworld.

All the same, Hades always knew when it was morning. He pressed a gentle kiss, barely there, to the pink haired head under his chin before easing out of the warm sleepiness of the bed. The goddess who had been cuddled up to him in her sleep sighed and rolled away, burrowing farther under the blankets.

He slipped on his robe and crept quietly from the room, pausing only to allow Cerberus in to snuggle with Persephone in his place before closing the door. He had never let the dogs in the bed before Persephone had insisted. But if she wanted Cerberus in the bed… he had a hard time telling her no.

He went into the kitchen and stared for longer than was necessary into the fridge. He wasn’t really thinking of food. He was thinking of her. Of how much he wanted to be back in bed with her. But he was hungry, and she would be when she woke up. It would be nice if he cooked for her for once.

Finally, he settled on what he would make and pulled out the carton of eggs, butter, and the milk. Reaching into the pantry he pulled down flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, vanilla, and spices. Carefully he measured, mixed, and set it to the side for a moment as he pulled out a griddle and set it to heat.

Twenty minutes and some arguing with the griddle later, he had several scrambled messes, and six perfect pancakes. He carefully tipped the scrambled pancakes into the bowls for each dog, and took the six perfect pancakes into the bedroom on a tray, along with syrup and butter and orange juice from the fridge.

He hadn’t closed the door all the way apparently. Someone, probably one of the dogs, had nosed open the door, and there were seven furry bodies in his bed, draped all over the bed and over Persephone. Six heads peered up at him when he walked in. Not Cerberus. He barely flicked an ear. But the rest did, some of them looking distinctly guilty. Persephone he could hear snoring softly.

He walked in and set the tray on the bedside table, smiling. He brushed a hair away from Persephone’s face. His smile widened as she nuzzled into his hand in her sleep, sighing and then cuddling deeper into the pillow. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, to her soft hair, and sat on the one corner of bed not claimed by dog to watch her sleep.

She was so beautiful. She was sweetness and darkness and light. She was his everything. She was his entire world. He was going to marry this woman. He was sure now. Yes, it was true, he decided. The sun doesn’t rise in the Underworld, but he didn’t find the need. He never had, and now he knew why.

Persephone was his sun.


End file.
